.https://tinyurl.com/yd8kxt9s: and this was at a time when i actually cared what girls thought... as any chubby kid prior to the age mid 16... cared so much... like any boy... then the backfire... so i thought: well... i know of a girl that won't back down, Sophia... and she certainly didn't teach me to regurgitate logic like a sophist might... new experience... and? ever since? so date with Jack was ever the same... i really used to care what girls thought... but... eh... these days? i care whether the bottom of the bottle looks like a telescope, or a mirage of a kaleidoscope... guess all the shame went out the window... selfish... selfish... hmm... then i guess all the monks are paying dues for that kind of existential hostage heist of - otherwise unwanted enlarged *****-loads of heart, mind, hope... my kind of poker... but thank god i don't that the sort of egoism of a ***** donor, like i'm some prime material for cloning... phew!
i listen to these commentary videos on politics, and then... i reach a saturation point... oi! Joe! Joe! where you goin'? to the jazz club? me come with... i've had enough... i get enough news when i visit my grandparents with my grandmother watching more news than her age-restricted bracket of Mexican or Turkish telenovelas... does my nuts in! i'd rather watch a ******* telenovela than the corporate news... at least i'd be watching someone akin to tuba büyüküstün (**** me, they went wild on the diacritical marks there... didn't they? do they match up to the scalpel of syllables within the word?) - hey! granny! put that **** back on, she's showing a healthy cut of thighs and the upper legs, cut, right, above the knee! i too miss the internet... like it was... in 2007 through to 2000 &... 17? well sure as **** no **** Sherlock it wasn't 2016... i appreciate the work of the counter-media... but after a while... i get bloated... too much information... and nothing of the sort i can speak to people about within or outside age bracket within this restricted space... so i fill up the tank, realizing it all ends with: oh, right... the same ******* tomorrow? and then i desperately try to find new music... musing over a sudoku puzzle... taking another painkiller swig of bourbon saying to myself: isn't this, just the most bountiful night filled with the oddest beauties encapsulated most by the shadow on the face of the moon? as ever, my number one motto: stay low, steer the undercurrent - seek no exposure... enjoy the drinking, but esp. enjoy the music... but **** me... i miss 2004... or was it 2005? whichever year it was... i remember having a race with this guy on a Tour de France type of bike... and i was mulling this thick-tier mountain bike from Bałtów to Ostrowiec Św. - but i still remember my 50+km leisure route... there are only two ways to lose weight without having problems of excess skin hanging like punctured fat balloons... cycling... or swimming... nope... you go to the gym to lose that weight? you'll be in need of plastic surgery... **** the diet... coffee is not coffee if you don't drink it with either full-fat milk or cream... i've seen what a coffee with skimmed milk looks like... looked at a receptionist's cuppa in the local g.p. surgery... diluted mud-water... same argument with low fat yogurt: instant diabetes - you, need, fat... you can't fake fat with excess sugars... plus... the texture? orangutan snot probably tastes better... no... gym is a bad idea for losing weight... had a "friend" (fwend) who thought it was worthwhile... guess now he can test what a tattoo looks like in old age... skin as elastic as a ******* parachute... running? bad for the knees... plus? 50+km on a bike? think of the scenery! - and you require but only afternoon session when the heat's off... roughly 2 hours... sure... after the weight is gone... **** that gym membership... but? not prior... you lose weight by concentrating on a calorie equilibrium with either your legs... or your torso... but let's face it... i didn't swim much... so basically your legs... on a bicycle... what was that route i loved so much... ah... the 754... through various names country roads... heading back on Iłżecka (a road's name borrowed from the town of Iłża - en route to Warsaw - a medieval road - now passed on route no. 9) - more fun than pretending to be a tourist in central London... bicycle... late afternoon... the road... and the endless fried pine patches of forest... there's nothing about home as the perfumes of the land... however grotesque - which does include farm animal manure... but **** me... Paris perfumeries can hide, shy... from their poignant scents... farm animal manure and hay... but later afternoon pine... and the wheat fields... and the grass... come to think of it... i never realized that i cycled into a completely different county... like me going from Essex through to Kent... fun as ****... plus i sometimes stopped at this old woman's hut... and bought some goat's milk.